Last night we had the first of our Advent series of Monday night prayer gatherings. We always open the Church, and the labyrinth, on Monday nights for contemplative prayer. By candlelight, we'll have a reading, then silence, then some kind of short prayer service. During Advent we thought we'd intentionally make the gatherings more welcoming to newcomers by picking a few types of prayer methods and introducing them before starting in. As it turned out, our group was not flocked with newcomers. But what I'd prepared in anticipation of being an introduction ended up being a much-needed (for me, anyway) refresher.
We chose lectio divina and I read from Martin Smith who speaks in such poetic language about how you can find yourself absorbed into the repetition of a phrase from scripture and let it become "like the beating of wings by which a bird rises into the air." My prayer is rarely that graceful and gentle. More often than not, it is dotted with head jerks as I start falling asleep, or distraction about the laundry waiting at home or the person I forgot to call back. But sometimes there are those moments when I soar, if only for a few minutes. Last night seemed especially beautiful, and I was reminded how mysterious and wonderful and holy our Scripture is. That each of us can read the same passage (for us it was Psalm 139) and find completely different emphasis and meaning for our own lives within it.
And it was good that I came away so refreshed, because when I got home my husband and I brought the Christmas tree inside and tried to put it in its stand. For 25 minutes we drilled holes and hacked the bottom off to try again and still ended up with a lopsided tree. But I was able to focus on the beautiful wintery fir smell and the anticipation of the kids seeing it standing inside when they awoke and the beating of the wings of those things helped the rest drift away.
We chose lectio divina and I read from Martin Smith who speaks in such poetic language about how you can find yourself absorbed into the repetition of a phrase from scripture and let it become "like the beating of wings by which a bird rises into the air." My prayer is rarely that graceful and gentle. More often than not, it is dotted with head jerks as I start falling asleep, or distraction about the laundry waiting at home or the person I forgot to call back. But sometimes there are those moments when I soar, if only for a few minutes. Last night seemed especially beautiful, and I was reminded how mysterious and wonderful and holy our Scripture is. That each of us can read the same passage (for us it was Psalm 139) and find completely different emphasis and meaning for our own lives within it.
And it was good that I came away so refreshed, because when I got home my husband and I brought the Christmas tree inside and tried to put it in its stand. For 25 minutes we drilled holes and hacked the bottom off to try again and still ended up with a lopsided tree. But I was able to focus on the beautiful wintery fir smell and the anticipation of the kids seeing it standing inside when they awoke and the beating of the wings of those things helped the rest drift away.
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